


The Night Before Hope

by SizzlerSunflower



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Foreshadowing, Gen, Ghost! Philip, Post-Death (Philip)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SizzlerSunflower/pseuds/SizzlerSunflower
Summary: Alexander and Eliza's family was broken, but Alex is picking up the pieces. With seldom hours left in the night, he refuses to give up now. A late night visit will cause memories to resurface one last time.





	1. Since You Left

His pen swiftly spat words onto his paper, determined to express every phrase (physically or figuratively) into his currently unfinished task. This man wasn't exactly an insomniac, though he refused to sleep unless his project was at least adequate or near perfect. His nightly, gravitational demons coached on his unbalanced mentality most every moment since.. recent events. It was quiet moments like these that they would come to reek havoc.

Since this was usually his daily and nightly routine, he was too often reminded by his wife that he worked himself half-to-death. In reply, the man would respond by complaining about his lack of time: a common phrase that was often dubbed to the name 'Hamilton' by coworkers and family friends. But with his political position in government, a predicament of this magnitude would be common. But this night was genuinely different than the rest, for the happenings of the next day had him utterly stumped.

Eliza and the children were sleeping peacefully, so in his office he was able to vent his.. 'frustrations', per say. On only rare occasions was he found tossing paper around his desk and losing interest after a paragraph or two; lingering taunts from those such as Jefferson, Adams, and especially Burr filled his subconscious with spite. For hopefully the last hours of the night, he was stumped. Just one idea, he prayed, was all he was asking for. He rested his head on the desk in a temporary defeat.

Thankfully, this specific night inhabited the exceptionally special idea he was looking for.

Stepping around their home, the eldest son, Philip, carried a lantern and carefully crept on the Hamilton's household floorboards; the ground beneath him creaking at every other one of his footsteps. His father's study was a good distance away, but it was close enough. Philip's mother was already asleep by eight, so it would be an almost easy task to accomplish now. Philip was a patient and knowledgeable child, but he too eventually became tired of waiting. So, to improvise, he created a game of counting taught by Eliza to occupy himself. 

First step. 

Un. 

Second. 

Deux. 

Third, fourth.. 

Trois, quarte..

Fifth, sixth, seventh..

Cinq, six, sept..

Philip motioned to a stop at the next number. A feeling of grief spread through him suddenly, a feeling he couldn't quite shake. How could he explain the happenings of late, why he had gone? How would his father react?

"Philip?" Alexander asked, a puzzled expression printed on his face. The young boy stumbled slightly, hearing the curiosity and concern in his father's voice. 'Play it cool, you don't want to scare him' He thought to himself. "Oh, papa, you're up." Alex nodded, slowly taking in his son's features. His appearance was closer to his childhood years, but all in all, every detail was the exact same. His smile, his voice, even his innocent habits. Something at the back of his head prodded a cold feeling, but he decided not to dwell on it, after all it was probably just a late night chill. Had the late hour finally made him delirious?

Glancing back to his work, he decided on playing along with his son's strange late night antics. "Aren't you sleepy?" Philip shook his head, strolling into the room. "Not at all! Aren't you?"

Alex imitated his son, shaking his head and put a hand on his own. "Too much to do. You should sleep while it's early, you'll mother will be worried sick if you don't get enough of it." Philip frowned, walking over to his father's desk. "What are you writing about?"

"It's.. For something tomorrow." 

"What's happening tomorrow?" 

"Something important." This Hamilton sure was talkative, that much was true.

"Then can I help? You write non-stop papa, I know I could write a letter for you or.. somethin'." He yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. The innocent remark couldn't help but make his father chuckle to himself. "Oh really? Well, it's a little too late for-" 

"I can't sleep until I'm satisfied!" A chill crawled up Alex's spine. Philip was certainly like his father, unrelenting and determined. Unfortunately, that meant his son's efforts would not be deterred. He sighed and let a smile onto his face, sitting up. Why push away unexpected company? "I can't say no to that." 

"So I can stay up with you?"

"Yes." 

"Promise?" He raised a brow, hesitantly.

"Promise." Before his father could change his mind, Philip hastened over to a nearby stool and pushed it near his father's occupied seat. It scratched the wooden floor, and Alex had to shush him before Philip realized and shuffled it slower. After Philip set the lantern down next to it, Alex was brought back to his writing prompt. He was about 1/3 of the way through this attempt, but he just couldn't focus. How could he, when the child beside him was currently taunting him? Pretended to be someone that had been gone- lost, for more than recent. The apparitions' motives were unclear, whatever they were. If he, it, was his son- no, Alex would not entertain the idea. It was impossible, and that was the bottom line. "Philip." He said, looking up from his work through his reading glasses. The child perked up at his name, blinking to register it properly. "Yes, papa?" If he wanted the illusion gone, he'd have to believe it wasn't real.

"What is the date today?" Philip visibly tensed, looking downwards toward the floor. "W-why do you ask-" He attempted to respond, but the man cut him off as his voice rose in tone despite his whispering. "Who are you really?" Alex interrogated. The boy stuttered awkwardly, but no words came out. The man had seen through his facade faster than anticipated. He closed his mouth and sighed, then tried once again. "Listen, I-" While he tried to get off his seat in hasty explanation, his anxiousness got the better of him and he stumbled.

In an instant, the stool Philip was sitting on had toppled over and the boy was on the floor- had he slipped off? Or, rather, it should have fallen with him; he fell completely through it. Whatever was the case, Philip rubbed his head in repetitive motions. He hadn't disappeared like Alex had hoped, no, now he only lingered. He fell through a stool, for God's sakes! The man was sure the night had gotten to him now. Alex stood up in shock to try and assist him, putting a hand on the child's shoulder while he got on one knee. As soon as the contact was made, a blinding light shone from Philip's current position that lit up the room entirely. The man used his elbow to deflect the sudden glare, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. When he felt the light dim shortly afterwards, he lowered his arm with wide eyes to make eye contact with someone much taller. It was Philip, an older version that looked approximately 19 years of age or younger. Now that he was closer, he looked more intently at the young man: 

He.. it, wasn't organic, as he could see the mist-like particles moving throughout him. Its eyes were the tint of Larimar- a stone he'd remembered from his home. But his gaze was as cold as a predator's, like a haunting phantom. Whatever god he had disquieted, they had cursed the man with an unfathomable hallucination. He had seen many throughout the passing months, but none were this.. 'persistent'. Was its goal to drive him to insanity? Surely, it was working. A gasp escaped his lips, and he retracted his hand from the boy's shoulder while he backed up and away from him. When the apparition must've noticed his sudden panic; he tried to close the distance and shush him, the man moved farther until his back was against a wall. The man couldn't stop his increasing heartbeat, the quickness of his chest inflating and deflating; Alex couldn't fathom what was currently happening. Why was this happening? Why was this.. this, thing, here? Why now?

Philip looked just as shocked, but more concerned of his father's emotion. What had changed that frightened him (besides the dramatic light)? He stood his ground and glanced at the mirror on a nearby wall, taking in his new form. Dragging a hand to touch the top of his cheek, he looked closer at himself. He was bigger and taller, and his eyes.. They were blue, comparable to the color of ice- 'like uptown snow in winter time', he imagined. His other hand roamed down his abdomen, tracing a particularly dense spot near his hip. The same for his arm, a foggy memory that would normally promote hazy flashbacks. However, there were more important matters to dwell on than his own well being.

Like nearing a wounded animal, Philip turned back towards his father. He was still pressed against the wall, but it seemed like he hadn't broken the gaze on his son at all. Philip cautiously approached the man making note to not to shake him further. "Pops.." He spoke and his voice cracked slightly, attempting to shush his father. At the sound of his name, Alex flinched but didn't break the staring contest they were having. Philip took smaller steps, and continued his tread to the other side of the room. He wasn't sure what the man was thinking; Philip had so many things to say, to do, but how could he? How would you react if you saw a ghost? If your son was standing in front of you, alive- well, not 'alive', but 'awake'. Philip was aware that he was in a new home, and that he was physically there, but the reason was unbeknownst to him. How was he here? All he knew was that he woke up- appeared, in the living room downstairs. Neither of them were completely educated on the subject.

Philip was less than a foot away now, holding his hands upward in surrender to gradually sit on the floor indian-style while still making eye contact. He gave Alex a sympathetic, forced smile. Surely, he could trust his son despite the little scare. He slid his hand on the wooden floor, grasping the man's palm to reassure him. Alex's expression tensed and soon softened, and his breathing slowed by a small amount. It seemed as though he was still hesitant, but there was still hope in convincing. He tried to speak, but his son nodded his head, answering his question without words. "I'm here." Philip whispered, and grinned a genuine smile. He could feel his heart in his throat, and it was a good feeling. He could actually feel again. Alex squeezed his palm, and despite his son's wishes he spoke almost inaudibly: "My son." Philip's face contorted after a whimper, and soon he was gathering his father into a hug. Alexander surrendered to the embrace, rubbing circles on the young man's back. "Papa, I'm sorry." He sobbed into his father's shoulder, resting his hands on his back while Alex rocked them back and forth. He could tell this was going to be a long night. "I didn't mean to leave you, and, and-" "I know, I know." Alex shushed Philip as they rocked, holding the back of his head. "She prob'ly cried, and cried.." His father shook his head sadly, chuckling shortly as he started to hum. "And I thought I was so smart.."


	2. To React On Moment's Notice

Alex paced around the room anxiously, mumbling to himself while Philip stood next to his desk with curiosity. He'd walk back and forth, from the door to the one window on the opposite wall; Philip's eyes would follow him the way there and back again. Despite his pacing making the young man anxious, he could understand the shock: who would believe a spirit coming into their home late at night? No less, their son? He probably wasn't even sure that this was actually happening.  
  
Alexander's eyes darted toward him as he stopped moving. "Stop that."  
  
Philip raised a brow. "Hm? Doing what?"  
  
" _Looking_ at me. It makes me.. uneasy."  
  
Philip shrugged. "Sorry, I can't help it pops." He turned his body so that he faced the window. "I could wait 'til you're done working, if it's that important-"  
  
Alex visibly tensed at his name. "No, no. You're fine, I just.. I don't know." He turned away from his son and stood there a moment to think. Philip frowned, and continued to loom in his direction. After a few seconds, Alex stepped over to the door like before; Philip wondered if he was going to finish pacing again, but instead he grasped the knob and tried shutting it. However instead of the door shutting, his hand went right through it. Alex's breath hitched audibly. This spiked Philip's interest; what was he about to do? "Pops?" Silence. Alex silently walked back over to where the boy was standing and stared directly at him. The young Hamilton stared back, but his father's staring made him nervous.  
  
"Why is this happening?" Alex stated, quiet enough that only they could probably hear it. "I'm not going crazy, am I?" The young man shook his head slowly. Philip wasn't sure of the answer that his father wanted- after all, he didn't have one for himself. Any answer was better than none though, he thought.  
  
Philip sighed softly. "..Honestly, I don't know what's going on myself."   
The man nodded understandingly, having a smile rest on his face. It was contagious, soon Philip was smiling too; his looked more strained. He swallowed, ill at ease.  
"Alright, okay, this is fine. I'll just finish my work and hopefully wake up-" Alex reached out to sit back into his seat; his hand touched nothing, and his body fell through the seat just as Philip's had before. Philip stood up from leaning near the desk and looked with wide eyes at his father. "Pops!" Then, gradually, his shock turned into a flat line, then a smile. He began silently chuckling, then his laughter bubbled up into erupted giggling. His father gave him a look of discouragement, so he quieted down soon after.  
"So, that's it," Alex stated still on the floor, spread like an unmotivated snow angel. "I'm dead." The young man was convinced his father was becoming hysterical. "No, no no! That's not what I meant-"   
"I've died-"  
"Pops-"  
"And I've imagined my son-"  
"Papa!"  
"The night before an important meeting." Philip opened his mouth to talk but Alex stood up again, walking away from Philip. "I'm dead, deceased!" The young man followed close behind, trying to calm him down.   
  
"It's not like that, I promise! Wait-" Philip bumped into Alex's back when he stopped promptly, and Alex swiftly twisted around to face him. He rested his hands on the young man's shoulders. "You're right, I'm being irrational. Everything happens for a reason, right? I just.. I need to calm down a bit." The man inhaled and exhaled softly, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he turned back around and inhaled sharply; Philip was about to try comforting him again when the man started yelling at the top of his lungs. "Hey, wake up!" Alex started running around like a maniac while Philip tried catching up with him. "Hello, hello!" Alexander was panicking, but Philip wasn't sure how to reassure him that he was in fact not dead. Philip rolled his eyes, "You are not dead, calm down! If you'd just listen to me!" Every time Philip tried to keep up with him, Alex would maneuver his way to a different direction to evade his grasp. His previous and current attempts were becoming useless.  
  
"Whatever god I have disquieted, bring me back!" A loud eruption of thunder shook the entirity of the room, bringing Philip and Alex to stop their motion altogether. They glanced at each other with wide eyes, not daring to move a muscle. Philip looked toward his lantern, and Alex's eyes did the same. Philip turned to his father and with a grieving expression mouthed inaudible words. The only light in the room, the lantern, died out.  



	3. Reigment What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch 3, up and running!

The lantern light flickered back on with a different tint, a glow of cyan blue lit up the dim room by a fifth; in summary, a small amount. The room was as deathly quiet, and it felt as if it were 30° in the small office space.

Alexander shivered and attempted gathering his bearings, trying to adjust his eyes with the ongoing flame to his dim surroundings. It was so cold in fact that Alex could see his breath. The window was nowhere to be seen, the door was as good as gone too. His mind momentarily wandered to where he was- or could be, perhaps. This night was draining his patience and energy. He imagined his wife, Eliza, must've felt this concoction of confusion and agitation when told the news of-

"Philip." He thought, making his way as best as he could across the room to the lantern. Its aura raised questions, but it would have to do for now. Alex didn't have time to ponder the thought of color. He lifted it by the handle while swinging it around to get better light for the room. Dark space-- walls, wooden floors, same as without the door and window. Alex wanted to assume Philip was _really_ just a figment of his imagination, but the body slumped on the far wall said otherwise.

Alex cautiously paced with the lantern to the other side of the room.

The silhouette was slouched on the wall motionless, so the older Hamilton bent down on one knee and put the lantern down to inspect him. He wanted to hold his breath, just in case disappointment came into play.  
Much to his luck they boy was merely unconscious- no wounds or blood. He laid a hand on the exposed side of the boy's neck with two fingers. He was still breathing, with a slow and steady heartbeat- thank goodness. Questions flew in and out of his brain, like why he was unconscious, how, and where the night was bound to take it's turn next?

Philip could be the only source. He got him into this, and he might know how to get out of it. He tried to think back to his days in the war, and the idea came to him. With the hand still on his neck, Alex used two fingers like before to press down on the spot.

The body erected upwards, causing a spasm of coughing fits. "64th Regiment of Foot, do you concur?" The phrase repeated itself in several short seemingly hostile spurts, Alex retracted his hand in shock and held the lantern close to himself. The boy got to his feet in record time; his head twisted around in confusion, and his wide eyes made him look borderline insane. The movements were more akin to a wounded animal than a person. His panic stopped only when his eyes landed on Hamilton. The man stood his ground- the situation was still escalating- any rash movements would ensure more hostility, he recalled from Washington.

His eyes were similar to before- however, contrary to before, his icy blue orbs were now yellow: like a snake's. Philip's horror contorted in three short steps. Horror to confusion was the first.

The boy narrowed his eyes, and stated flatly in a vague British accent: "..Colonel Hamilton." Hamilton scowled, taking a step back. "How- how.. do you know me? My-my name? I haven't been called that in-" The second step was confusion to anger. "Huh.. so you did survive after all." He smirked almost hysterically. He strode closer to where he stood; it made Hamilton uneasy. It made his hands shake, and he realized the cold sensation sending him chills was indeed the young boy approaching. "Where is my son?" He shot back, his tone highlighted attempted assertiveness with confusion. Suddenly he heard a buzzing noise, he looked down to see it was the lantern. The blue tinted light that was eminating at that moment flickered light to dark in brightness, fading in a loop. With one hand he lifted the handle to see it's rapid change- indigo, sky blue, indigo, and back again. This discovery sent red flags up in his brain, and deprived him of any hope that he had been clinging too so far-- this, all of this, was really happening.

He was now less than arms length apart from him when he glared directly in the man's eyes- like a python. "I've been waiting, longing perhaps, to meet the bastard in person. It's a pleasure, general."

And the last step, as previously mentioned, was violence. More specifically, a puch to the face.


	4. Finish??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update 1/22

I'm wondering if I should post the other chapters. I've already got them saved, but should I continue this? I passed my goal of December lol but I feel as if I might as well finish now.


End file.
